Stella

Stella’s Story

In July of 2023, Stella’s family lost their housing and couldn’t take their dogs with them. So, at 10 years of age, Stella was surrendered to the SPCA of Tompkins County.

Stella was traumatized by shelter life. She had a sign on her kennel door, warning people to approach slowly, give her time and space as she might growl or bite. Looking back, it would be funny if it weren’t so sad. That was the exact opposite of who Stella was, who she turned out to be.

When we first met, though, she was scared. She avoided eye contact. She trembled in fear. But I adopted her, and after a short car ride home, Stella walked into the house, jumped up on the ottoman, flopped over on her back and did her signature belly-up- twist-and-shout-back-roll. She was the happiest dog you’ve ever seen.

She was home.

The first thing I think about when I think of Stella is THE LOOK. She had mastered a look that said “oh hell no”, “seriously?”, and “yeah, that’s not happening” all at once. Put something in front of her, food, treats, toys, whatever, and odds are that’s the look you got. Give her a command, or try and move her from her chosen spot and for sure you’d get THE LOOK.

Conversely, Stella had the most amazing smile. Mention a walk, a car ride, or, her favorite, a trip to Lowe’s, and her eyes would light up, her tongue would wag out of her mouth and she’d smile so brightly you couldn’t help but smile and laugh along with how purely she radiated total, complete, JOY.

Stella was very social. She loved people. She was always on my hip. Sit on the couch, she bullied her way in to be right beside me. Move around the house, she’d follow. Go to bed at night, she’d curl up tight against my chest and fill the night with the sound of her soft snoring. Good luck trying to get her to move.

And it wasn’t just me, Stella loved people in general. Someone would come to the house, or we’d walk by a stranger at Lowe’s and Stella would lose her mind. Her whole butt would wag back and forth. She’d smile and pant and lick lick lick. Being with people was Stella’s whole world.

Stella was stubborn. Whatever she did, it had to be her idea. She had no interest in following commands or your lead. Waking up at 7? Fine, but she’s sleeping in till 10. Sitting on the couch? She’ll sit on the floor in front you, staring. You move over and pat the cushion beside you, encourage her to come up. She just keeps staring, but the minute you look away, BOOM, there she is jumping up and nestling in beside you.

The same with food. Put her bowl down, encourage her to eat? She’ll just stare at it, then at you. Turn your back and chomp chomp chomp she’s devouring her meal and licking the bowl clean.

When she was outside doing her business, she’d walk around, sniff, do her thing, and kick grass up. Then she’d stand perfectly still for a few seconds thinking god knows what, then, BOOM, she’d sprint straight for the back door like she was shot out of a cannon, racing as fast as she could to get back inside. I have no idea what that was about, but it was the funniest thing to watch.

Mostly, though, she was calm, quiet. The other dogs would be barking up a storm at something and Stella would be all “meh, whatever”. She’d cock an eyebrow, look vaguely in their direction, heave a big sigh, and go right back to sleep.

Stella and Anya didn’t get along, so for much of late 2025/early 2026 Stella stayed with my girlfriend, Yoanna, in Syracuse. It was there that Stella thrived. She became best buddies with Yoanna’s dog Schnoodles, often sleeping curled up next to him. She was Yoanna’s jogging partner as she trained for a 10K. She even accompanied Yoanna to work at Syracuse University. Wearing an orange sweater , she’d walk with Yoanna to work and spend most of the day sleeping on a pillow in the corner of her office. Yoanna would take her out when the students were between classes and Stella would go absolutely ape-shit, sprinting from one group of students to the other saying “HI HI HI!” to everyone she could. She would freely follow Yoanna to the break room, where she greeted everyone with her over-the-top enthusiasm. People went out of their way to find an excuse to visit Yoanna’s office and, of course, greet Stella.

It was on one of those walks to work in early January that Stella started to limp. Barely noticeable at first, it progressed rapidly. The vet thought maybe arthritis and treated her for such, but to little benefit. Multiple vet visits told us what it wasn’t, but nobody could give us a diagnosis, or, even worse, a treatment. By the end of February she couldn’t bear weight on the leg, would cry out when I’d pick her up to bring her up the stairs she could no longer climb, or help her off the couch she could no longer jump off.

On Sunday March 1, I brought her to Yoanna’s where Stella. . .my sweet sweet Stella. . . she just sat, crying out, holding her leg up, looking at us both, eyes so sad, back hunched over in pain. We settled her on the couch, pulled the mattress off the bed, pushed it up against the couch, spent the night close to her.

I couldn’t sleep. I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, listening to Stella’s soft snores for what I knew was the last time, both hoping for an end to her pain and dreading that terrible last goodbye.

The vet came on Monday morning. Stella licked my hand as she lay in her favorite place; nestled on the couch between Yoanna and I. I stroked her fur and cried and told her how loved she was.

Her passing was calm and peaceful, and for that I am grateful.